


The Wolf

by ectobiologyst



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood Play, Dominant Masochism, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Human Bill Cipher, Knife Play, Oral Sex, Ownership, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Bill Cipher, Sadism, Sexual Content, i really like dark bill, kind of?, very dark in a lot of times, wow ok most of these tags are dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectobiologyst/pseuds/ectobiologyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have no idea,” he breathed into her neck, midst small bites, “how long I’ve craved you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ritual

It had been 6 years since Dipper had last been in Gravity Falls, Oregon. She was 12 at the time, completely infatuated with the paranormal beings and happenings of the small mountain town. Her and her twin brother, Mason, would spend days in the woods logging on fae people and nights trying to figure out who that godforsaken journal belonged to. When the pair returned home to California, Dipper brought the book with her. Nothing was quite the same after the trip. Dipper would study the journal for hours upon days, and hers and Mason’s bond weakened ridiculously. The two hardly stood in the same room without nasty looks The truth was wearing her down to dust- being away from Gravity Falls was.

Dipper jerked up sleepily from resting her head on the table with a slight groan. Mason looked at Dipper, remaining quiet,and poured some coffee into a heavily decorated mug. Since the twins moved in together, Mason started taking jobs over passive aggressively.

“You really need to catch up on your sleep,” Mason said, noting how the brunette slumped back over after sipping her coffee. Mason poured his own.

Dipper adjusted her truckers cap and huffed, “I have plenty of enough sleep, Mason. You only need 7-and-a-half hours to sleep. I fit in there.”

“You were up until dawn, I can see your light. You aren’t foolin’ me.”

Dipper opened her mouth to respond and then slouched back again, pulling her cap down further and facing the other way. Mason looked at Dipper and slightly shook his head with a sigh, reaching across their gingham clothed table to the mail. Atop the stack was a sealed envelope with neat handwriting addressed to; “Mr. Mason Pines and Ms. “Dipper” Pines.”

Mason evaluated the letter and then licked down the spine of it, dampening it so he could easily tear down the crease with his nail. Inside the envelope was a letter littered with coffee stains and the smell of cheap alcohol. Mason audibly made a disgusted noise. He unfolded the paper and flattened it out. His eyes skimmed through it to the signature, where a shaky hand had signed; “Stanford Pines.”

“Dip,” Mason spoke cautiously, looked over at the exasperated Dipper. He handed the letter to her, Dipper taking it quickly. She held it close to her face and knocked her hat further back onto her head so she could read. “

Mason and Dipper Pines,

It’s been awhile since we’ve talked last, and awhile since you visited your own Grunkle up here in Gravity Falls. I’ve talked your parents about the mess of you two coming back up for the Summer. The Mystery Shack is still in business, but running short on staff with Wendy being busy with finishing up college. Soos hasn’t changed a bit since you were 12, believe it or not. He took the old attic where you will hopefully staying. I’ll extend the offer for you two to come up and visit the ol’ Shack. If you’re ever in need of a summer job, you know where to find one.

Love from your Grunkle,

Stanford Pines”

Dipper set the letter down and looked at her lap for a few moments, twiddling her thumbs and gnawing on her lip. Mason waited for Dipper to speak, leaning on his elbow and gazing at her. She stopped her idle movements and looked up, flattening the letter out completely on the table.

“Lets leave tomorrow.”

****  
  
  
  


The ride from Piedmont, California to Gravity Falls was about an 8 hour drive. For Dipper, it felt longer than that. Their luggage was stuffed into all available space in the back of their 1987 model Volvo, Mason’s obnoxiously loud music playing. Mason hardly ever drove on the long rides, he got easily distracted and complained about Dipper’s song choice. She saved herself the trouble by driving the 8 hours straight. She had to admit, the scenery of the drive was incredible.

It was late into the evening when the twins arrived back at the Mystery Shack. It was chilly and raining, the gravel driveway easily muddy. Steam blew from the chimney and a warm, friendly glow illuminated the dark paneling of the shack. Mason was fast asleep in the passenger seat, head tilted back with his mouth slightly open. Dipper looked at him and pulled the keys from ignition. She nudged her twin with her elbow.

“Welcome home.”

The two only grabbed the luggage necessary for the night, the rain picking up steadily. A gust of wind knocked Dipper’s hat back, falling onto the gravel. She juggled the luggage in one arm and leaned down to grab it, facing the dark woods. She kept eye contact on the forest for a few moments while she put her hat back on. It felt as if something was staring right back. Dipper heard leaves and sticks crunch somewhere, coming close to her quickly. The noise got closer and closer and closer-

“Dipper, come on!”

Dipper jumped out of her skin. Mason was standing on the porch, his hand on a door knob. Dipper readjusted the luggage in her arm, giving one last look into the deep forest, a chill running down her spine and up her arms. She jogged through the rain to Mason, offering a muttered ‘sorry.’ He held the door open and followed in quickly. They dropped their stuff on the old couch.

“Eugh, what’s all the ruckus about?” a familiar voice rasped, coming into the living room doorway. Grunkle Stan hadn’t changed an ounce since they last saw him 6 years ago. He was a bit greyer, she supposed, but his appearance hadn’t worsened or improved. The old man rubbed a hand down his face and yawned, obviously woken from a nap or sleep. He harshly blinked his eyes, almost confused like at the twins standing in the middle of the living room. Mason stepped up and hugged him tight, snapping their Grunkle out of the surprised daze. Dipper joined in on the hug, wrapping her arm around them both. It felt right, this felt right. She felt home for the first in 6 years.

When Grunkle pulled away, Mason was quick to grab their luggage. He started upstairs when Grunkle Stan raised his voice with a quick, “hey.”

Mason turned around, bags grasped in his hands.

“Soos is, uh, still using your room. I’ll chase ‘em out tomorrow, but until then you’re stuck down here on the couch. I wasn’t expecting you two.”

Dipper didn’t particularly mind sleeping on the floor, her bed back at home was probably harder. Mason was more of the kind to complain in the morning about the lack of sleep from sleeping on the floor. Any sleep was good sleep to her. She, without a complaint, started to pile blankets neatly on the ground with her dark blue pillow at the end. She left only a bare two blankets to cover herself, easily getting hot in the night. Mason settled in easily to the couch, tucked down underneath the pile of blankets.

Stan assured that they were fine for the night and returned to his bedroom. With the lights off, it was much darker than she had planned. Her eyes watched as her fingers traced the crease of the blankets, wandering across the floor to her tossed bag that came unzipped. The journal sat mockingly, the hand reflecting just an ounce of light from the moon filtering in the window. Dipper chewed her lip and looked back at Mason, who laid fast asleep on the couch, lightly snoring. She turned back around.

Her hand starting sliding towards the leather bound journal, nails slightly scraping across the worn wooden floors. It was just in reach now. Her hand glided to the top of journal, the leather rough against her fingerpads. It’d been awhile since she last opened the journal, less read it. She lightly drug it back to her side, grabbing the flashlight that stood by her pillow. She flickered the light on and pulled the covers over her head, diluting the light from Mason.

Dipper flipped it to a random page, being that of the ‘Gnomes.’ A small smile lit her face at the fading memory of them trying to make Mason their king. Back then, when Mason had lengthy hair, they believe he was a girl. Dipper always joked about how that was Mason’s first boyfriend, and he’d shove her away. Her finger ran over the lightly indented lines of the drawing, where the Author pressed too hard. She flipped through the pages and stopped randomly again.

It opened to the scale of Ghosts. The friendly ghost marked number one, and a more sinister and ghastly looking ghoul marked number ten. That same summer Dipper had helped the town’s personal demon, Pacifici Northwest, get rid of a category 10 ghost from his manor. Pacifici really proved to be more than he let show, doing the right thing and letting all the townspeople into the party. That summer, she swore that she was in love with him, until she caught him planting a kiss on Mason. She wondered if he still held the party every summer.

Dipper thumbed through the pages, stopping occasionally to read them and remember a time. The edges of paper was starting to wear and yellow from everything it went through. Dipper ran her finger down the edge of the paper, the ridges tickling her finger. She flipped to the last page of journal. Bill Cipher.

The mind demon’s triangle form was drawn. It had his name is big, swoopy cursive letters. The page seemed to be splattered in blood or red ink, with ‘DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS!’ written crudely in the same ink, or blood. He, was perhaps, her least favorite memory. A chill ran down her spine remembering the way it felt to be taken from her body. Watching him and Mason tangle around in a mess to take the book. When she got back into the body, her arms had deep cuts from forks, and at least one of her arms were broken. Not to mention, she was incredibly tired. Although the mess he made, she wondered if he might be the tape that repairs hers and Mason’s relationship. She’d never let her twin know, but she missed being Mystery Twins.

Her eyes drawled over the words to summoning him, her hands weakening her stomach tightening at the thought of summoning the demon. What would he want from her wanting to repair a relationship? Would her body become another puppet, or would Mason’s? Even if he couldn’t fix their relationship, she just wanted Mason back to normal for everyone. He was such a depressing case, going from a bubbly teen to such a quiet and introverted adult. She knew she had to do with it too. Maybe Bill wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Dipper chewed her lip again.

She flipped off the flashlight and pushed the journal back into her back, turning on her side to look at Mason’s sleeping face. Maybe she would. With that last thought, she slowly blinked her eyes and fell asleep. He watched.

* * *

 

Dipper woke up that next morning early, rubbing her childlike. Mason was already up, his blankets neatly folded on the couch. She slipped on some khaki shorts and her orange tee and folded the blankets that she used for her palette, stacking atop of Mason’s. She put up her beach curled hair into something like a bun and headed into the kitchen. Grunkle Stan and Mason were talking in hushed tones over coffee, stopping and looking at Dipper when she walked into. Stan looked as if he were going to say something, but stopped himself as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar and headed out. If they wanted to talk together, then she’d let them.

She headed out into the forest to find whatever was staring at her last night. Her bag containing the journal was tossed on one shoulder as she backpacked through the Oregonian forests. A small stream trickled off in the forest, making a quiet whispy noise in the forest. Trees held chittering and chirping birds, morning sun dripping from the green leaves and casting designs of the sun onto the forest brush. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see odd and paranormal creatures- three eyed bunnies, gnomes, you name it. They watched her curiously but lost attention and continued on their morning routines.

Dipper was following a trail she must have made when she was younger, heading to a waterfall where she’d sit and study the journal and Mason would swim. She’d always end up cooling off with him in the cold cave water. Dipper brought her swimsuit, in case things got better between them. She hadn’t swam in years. She didn’t really have friends to do so with.

She met the waterfall where she spent her days. It still ran incredibly, her rock starting to be covered by intruding moss. The pool of water was clear and crisp, the mute noise of the water crashing into water. It was just as peaceful as she remembered it being. Dipper walked over to the cove and ran her fingers in the water, it curling and passing through her fingers. A chill ran down her spine. Fish curiously swam away but around her fingers, eyeballing her. She sat down on her rock and took off her messily tied shoes and socks and dipped her feet into the water. She let out an audible noise of pleasure as the cool rocks met her feet, she waded into the water farther. The cool water touched her knees, tickling and reaching towards her thighs. The spray of the waterfalling caught drops in her pinebark colored hair. A laugh rose in her throat.

Before she could understand what she was doing, she was jumping around and twirling and splashing in the mountain pool. Her toes curled as the cold water splashed onto her upper body. It was utterly refreshing on the hot summer day. She danced around in the water until she tired and headed to the rock. Dipper looked around the small clearing. No one really came to this place, there’d be no harm in shedding clothes, right? Deciding she was right, she slipped off her outer and undergarments and waded back into the pool. She lowered herself in the water until only her nose and above were visible. The water was crisp and cold, tickling her body. Dipper freed her hair from the hairband and replaced it on her wrist. She threw her head back and soaked her hair into the cold water. Icy tendrils brushed at her scalp. She hummed.

Dipper must have spent all morning at the cove, coming back to the Mystery Shack about lunch time. She let her hair and clothes dry at the waterfall before coming back as not to raise suspicions of her whereabouts. Instead of a messy buns, two long braids had replaced it. When she made it back to the Shack, Soos was working the gift shop. A few tourists were in there, and didn’t seem to mind a slightly muddy girl walking in. She assumed Stan had told him the news, because his face was a bit melancholic.

“Soos,” Dipper said, leaning on the counter. He seemed to be lifted from a daze.

“Woah, dude! It’s been like, forever! You look totally different. I can call you dude, right?” Soos greeted, sitting up.

“Nothing’s changed, go ahead,” Dipper laughed, tapping her fingers on the counter. “Kind of insensitive, but you’ve moved out of the attic already now, right?”

Soos’ face dropped and he rested his chin on his pudgy hand. “Yep, Stan’s already kicked me out.”

Dipper stood straight and offered him a friendly, ‘bye,’ before heading into the living room to grab her bags. Her bags were absent from the couch, most presumably being taken by Mason already to their room. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed up to her old room. She knocked once on the wooden door and walked in. Mason was sitting on his bed, reading a magazine and occasionally checking his phone. Dipper’s stuff was neatly put away, pillows on her bed. She slung off her bag onto the bed and sat down, unloading it. Nothing was said between them two, just the sound of her rummaging through her bag and the tapping off Mason’s nails on the phone. He stood abruptly and turned to Dipper, “I’m meeting up with Gunter and Candan. I’ll be back later tonight.”

She nodded and watched as he left, listening until his footsteps faded out. She sucked her teeth and tucked her bag between the nightstand and her bed. Dipper collapsed back onto the bed and sighed loudly. She didn’t have friends here in Gravity Falls either, she used to just hang out with Mason. That’s what she gets for relying solely on her twin’s company. Dipper rolled onto her side and looked at the journal on the end table. Maybe she really did need Bill’s help.

Without a thought, she plucked it from the bedside table and sat up, flipping to the demon’s information page. She read through the directions of summoning and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Her finger followed until the last word. ‘Eight candles? Maybe I still have those candles in the closet..’

Dipper got up and rummaged in the closet. A lot of her old marked boxes were torn and spilling, probably from Soos staying in the attic. She searched through the last box, her eyes coming across her 16 candles she had just in case she needed to exorcise or summon anything. She usually kept them in her bag. Dipper pulled them out and set the extra aside in her back, placing them in a neat circle. She went to each candle and set the wick aflame. Next.

She took a frame picture of her and Mason and grabbed a red marker of Mason’s laying near by. Dipper crossed out his eyes on the glass frame and set it in the middle of the formatted candles. She grabbed the journal off the bed and kneeled in front of the altar of candles and a picture. Placing her left hand on the journal page, she looked at the picture of Mason and knitted her eyebrows.

“ _Triangulum, entangulum._

_Meteforis dominus ventium._

_Meteforis venetisarium!_ ”

The room started to drain of color, sepia running down the walls like fresh tar. Dipper panicked a bit, but continued on with the ritual. If it was for the sake of Mason, she’d do it.

“ _Asetnoheptus, Asetnoheptus, Asetnoheptus, Asetnoheptus, Asetnoheptus!_ ” she chanted, wind tossing her hair from her face. She dropped the journal and shielded her eyes as a bright gold triangle shape appeared to grow from the pattern in the window.

 


	2. Deal

Bill’s loud and vexatious laughter started to get clearer and clearer. His single eye, the eye of Providence, appeared, as well as the other tributing parts of Bill’s appearance.The cat like eye gazed upon her, almost in confusion at first.

The girl had aged from since he last saw her when she was twelve years old. Her hair grew out of the mousy looking color and actually seemed to darken, causing her already pale skin to look paler. They twisted into two messy looking braids that framed her heart shaped face. Her eyes were a shade of golden brown, what used to be neat makeup smeared underneath her eyes. She had thinned out of the baby fat from when she was 12, but still retained pudgy thighs and wide hips.

 

“Well, well, well!” Bill drawled in his irritatingly chipper voice, “it’s been a long time, Pinetree!You’ve changed! Thought you’d never come back. Boy, was I wrong! Hahaha!”

Dipper stood to her feet cautiously, resisting the urge to chuck the journal at his annoying face- face? She dusted off her legs and perched her hands on her hips.

“I’m not here to play, Bill. I want to make a deal, maybe.”

His eye widened in surprise, ‘popping’ a simple black cane into the mindscape. “What kind of deal are we talking here?”

“I need you to help Mason. Ever since 6 years ago, I don’t know, he’s changed a lot. He’s barely said a full sentence, he never leaves home. I don’t know what’s wrong and it’s frustrating!” Dipper tangled her long fingers into her hair. She never realized how stressed she was until she talked about it.

The demon swung his cane around. “And? What do ya need me for? Shooting Star’s finally growing up.”

“I don’t think not eating for 2 days is part of growing up- God, anyway, that’s beside the point. I want you to give him back to us. He’s knee deep in depression and it’s getting worse,” she stressed, it showing on her strained voice.

Bill thought for a second before extending a hand, “well, a deal’s a deal but I need something from you Pinetree!”

Dipper eyed the hand and raised an eyebrow, “and that is?”

“I was thinking a pet of sorts! You know- for like, entertaining and all that. Thinking ‘bout reviving the Mindscape a bit. Nothing hurts.”

“What’re you playing at?” she asked, voice lowered in cautious confusion.

“Maybe a dog, or a deer, or a human!” His eye widened at the last thought, though the sentence reeked of facetiousness.

“You can’t take Mason, that’s not apart of the deal, Bill. Leave him out of my part,” Dipper warned the demon, her tone of authority doing nothing against the immortal being. Bill laughed and twirled his cane again.

“I wasn’t thinking your brother, toots, I was thinking more along the lines of you,” he offered, his hand still extended and a blue flame starting to set in his palm. Dipper’s mouth was partially open in disgust and surprise.

“I-I can’t- what? No way in hell, Bill. I don’t want to know all sorts of the freaky things you’re into,” Dipper stated, aghast. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her back stiff.

Bill withdrew his hand and turned his back on her. A small blue flame still twinkled in his palm, though it wasn’t as bright as it had been a few moments prior. He seemed to be thinking something, or maybe, she figured, he was doing it just for theatrical purposes.

“Alright, kid, but don’t come to me when Mason is gone,” he drew out nonchalantly, as if she knew Mason would be gone as well. She furrowed her eyebrows and sucked her cheek, her foot lightly tapping the drained of color floorboards.

“What do you mean?”

“If things are really gettin’ bad like ya said, then I’m guessing that I’m not messed up in his time of death. I knew you were selfish, but I didn’t realize it extended to this. Yeesh.”

Dipper let her mouth go agape for a second. She wasn’t selfish! Bill wanted her for a pet in exchange for Mason’s-! She swallowed. Perhaps he was right then. What kind of sibling chose herself over her sibling’s life? She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit.

“Would I get to spend time with my friends?” she quietly asked, eyes drifting to the floorboards. It couldn’t be too bad right? He didn’t seem to be like he was tricking her into being a life puppet again. Maybe he was being genuine in what he was saying, but then again, it was Bill she was talking about.

“Unless I call for ya, then you’re free to do whatever. There are terms and conditions though, Pinetree,” he said, a contract appearing in his hands with some scrawly writing in a different alphabet. He seemed to be reading off of it. “Our deal isn’t a topic of conversation, and I’m watching. Bring it up and- zap- Mason’s done for it. Secondly, you do what I say, when I say. Punishments should be expecting otherwise. Depending on how severe you disobey, Mason’s life is on the line. Small price for a dumb sibling.”

She thought it over, curling a straying strand of hair on her fingers. “Alright, Bill, it’s a deal.”

He turned around, ecstatic and extended his hand once more. The blue flame ignited brightly and burned around his inky hand. Dipper shut her eyes and shook hands with him slowly. The handshake lingered for a second, her eyes opening to meet with his eye. He released her hand and laughed once more, the same sharp and childish laughter.

“If I’m to keep an eye on you, this won’t do.”

She watched curiously as the triangle morphed into a more human figure, the silhouette flickering with golden light for a second before features could come into play. Color started to pop back into the attic room. She gasped as she awoke from the dream, her eyes first coming to the image of a black gloved hand in front of her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. When she first glanced up at his human form, it was hard not to be taken away by the enchanting sight of him. His face was angular, with cheekbones she was sure could cut a man. His hair was miraculously golden and was cut in a sort of messy undercut. The under of his hair was inky black, but somehow felt right in contrast with the gold on top. His eyes resembled much of an Egyptian eye, but it was strikingly gold, the other eye covered by triangle eyepatch. He was dressed like a 1950’s actor would be at a premier, with a coat over that reached his ankles, cut precisely in three sections and a black cane. Underneath, was a pristine white button up and black bow tie.

Suddenly, Dipper felt horribly embarrassed at her disheveled look and messy hair. His gloves were soft to the touch, made out of leather. When he grinned a wolfish grin at her, he showed off a pair of dazzling sharp canine teeth. He’d probably look normal without that, she guessed.

“What do I tell my family? ‘Oh, hi guys! This man dressed to the nines crawled through my window and I think he should stay here!’” she chastised. “You’re too overdressed.”

Bill looked taken aback at the notion he was overdressed. “Last time I was on Earth, this was perfectly normal. You humans change too much.” Dipper snorted.

“You look ridiculous. Take off that coat and rough up your shirt. And for Godsake, leave the cane. I know you can walk without it,” she seethed, tucking the journal underneath her bed. Unexpectedly, Bill followed her instructions and put all discarded clothes on her bed, including the cane. She inspected him. He looked more normal than he had before hand, but it’s God like appearance kind of threw it off.

“Lets go.”

Bill seemed to be still a bit clumsy in a human body, skipping a few steps on accident but fortunately catching himself before he crashed into her. When she made it into the living room, Bill in tow, she met Grunkle Stan. He was sitting in the recliner, watching an old western. He looked up at her when she walked it, and then at Bill.

“Who’s this?” he said with a grouched voice. He seemed somewhat suspicious, but Dipper didn’t seem too worried. Mason would bring home really odd people back in her day, so he shouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. Bill grinned widely, and walked over to Stan. He shook his hand a bit rough and peered down at the old man.

“Pleasure to meet you- what is it?- Mr. Pines! I’m Will Cider! I met your great niece Dipper here while walking in the forest,” he introduced. Dipper mentally scoffed at the creativity of that name, just close enough that it wouldn’t raise suspicion. Bill and Stan began a conversation about God knows what. Grunkle Stan seemed to like him, enough to the point where the engaged conversation lasted at least 10 minutes. It wasn’t until she audibly sighed that the pair looked up.

“Sorry, sweetpea, I got carried away. Your Grunkle here is a very interesting man!”

She cringed at the outdated pet names he used for her, which sounded a bit derogatory in her opinion. They were layered with coats of facetiousness, and were too wickedly sweet for a man who just made her give up her individuality to save her brother’s life. “We should get going then.”

“Sure thing. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Pines!” Bill called as she practically drug him from the shack. He chuckled as soon as he closed the door and headed towards Stan’s old car. “Oh man, your Stan is so gullible! ‘Will Cider?’ Even Mason would catch onto that! Speakin’ of him, where is the man of the hour?”

Dipper pulled herself into the driver’s seat and turned the key to ignition. “He went to go out with Gunter and Candan. Hopefully he didn’t change abruptly in a conversation, that’d be hard to cover.”

He started to play with dice hanging from the mirror. “Oh. Speaking of going out, where are we going, Pinetree? We just kinda left.”

“I figured the Diner or something. I wanted to discuss the details of the deal, but I’m also unbearably hungry.”

When they got to the Diner, Bill had been uncharastically silent the whole time. There wasn’t much to be said, and she was far too confused on her situation in the relationship. He didn’t seem so domineering, but wasn’t that a Master/Pet trait? Maybe that mentality was only present in the cheap erotic novels Dipper would read occasionally. She wondered if he even planned on anything past her doing deeds from him or causing chaos. Her stomach twisted nervously at the lack of control she had over the system. She chewed her lip.

They got a seat and she had ordered something of eggs and bacon and a cup of joe. Bill turned down food, but ended up sneaking a strip of bacon off her plate as she began to ask question.

“So,” Dipper poked the egg yolk in her eggs, watching it move around the prongs of the silverware, “what exactly am I going to lose in our situation here? You said I’d be able to see my family as I please, I’m confused to how this affects me.”

Bill leaned back in the booth and folded his arms behind his mop of gold and black. “Not as ya please, toots. As I please. You’re in servitude to me, I make the decisions for you. Nothing that gets passed me you do.”

She stabbed the yolk and watched it bleed into the white. “So, what? What restrictions do you have for me besides submission and not being able to bring the deal up in conversations?”

“That was only a few of my restrictions. We’re in relations now, whether you like it or not. What belongs to me, I don’t share. No boys- or girls, if you’re into that too. I want you to stay healthy too. A dead pet is not a fun pet.”

Dipper didn’t care for being referred to a prize or possession, especially not that of Bill’s. The way he spoke of her frightened her. The way he didn’t see her as anything more than an object. She took a swig of her black coffee, letting the bitterness sit on her tongue before swallowing.

“What do I do for you? Act like a little minion and do the dirty work for you? I can’t say I’ve ever killed a man.”

Bill watched her eat, curiously. “Whatever I want. Whether it’s for my pleasure or for the destruction of something. It doesn’t really matter, anyways, you wouldn’t turn me down and kill your sibling, would you?”

Dipper tightened her hands into fists, grinding her teeth a bit. She hated the lack of control she had with Bill, and a sharp tongue could result in losing Mason. She felt so utterly helpless and weak, not to mention all the pent of feelings she couldn’t express to anyone, other than Bill. Not that she’d let any of her emotion even show with the tricky demon around, he’d find some way to take advantage of it. He was grinning like a cat across the table, the fluorescent light shining off his pointed incisors.

“What happened, kid? Cat got your tongue?”

“I just don’t see why you’re making this deal with me. Why not just, like, ask for the blood of a goat or something? You could’ve used this whole situation with a much more, ah, appealing person.”  

“Appealing? Yeah, I could have totally found someone more attractive than an 18 year old girl with a bad attitude. The thing is, that’s why I chose you to carry out the deal. It’ll be so much more fun to watch you break than someone who’s default dismissive. I’ll get to have a lot of fun with you, Pinetree, I can see it already.”

The way Bill discussed the matter reminded her of those horrible BDSM romance novels she’d sometimes catch Mason shoving underneath his pillow with a flushed face. His tone reeked of aggressive dominance, and even subtle things he would do prove that. Sitting with opened legs, reclining in the diner as if he ran the place. He seemed to not know anything but being dominant. Perhaps you get like that after spending centuries in an empty mindscape. Dipper would try to fight dominance with dominance, but always ended up submitting to his domination.  

She finished her coffee and food, paying and tipping before she left. The constant company of the demon was more than annoying, she had preferred him more when he was a triangle and could only bother her when she was in the mindscape. Now he had free reign on his nonstop blabbering. Dipper didn’t keep track of the conversation, letting him talk all he wanted and not paying attention. Bill talked for most of the short trip home, until he caught on that she wasn’t listening to him.

“Hey! Don’t zone out on me when I’m talking to you,” he scolded, shooting a look in her direction. She didn’t bother to look over at him, keeping her hands on wheel and eyes on the road.

“Sorry, my mind’s kind of on the fact that I’m a slave for the rest of my life. Are you going to like, watch me sleep or something creepy like that?” She tapped her index on the leather steering wheel.

Bill laughed, “Kid, I’m a dream demon! Watching people sleep is kind of my thing.”

“Right. Great. I’m never sleeping again, thanks. How long have you been watching me?”

“Since I met you. Your dreams are captivating, Pinetree. Almost as captivating as you.”

She ignored his compliment, pulling the keys out of ignition and putting her hand on the handles of the car. The sky was dark blue now, fading to black, and crickets started chirping a storm in the forest. She forgot how alive in the forest was at night, how every animal made a noise, including the low rustling of the leaves on the tree. She stepped out of the car and tilted her head back, gazing at the endless amount of stars in the valley. It was peaceful, peaceful enough to where she forgot about the demon standing only a few feet behind her. He was watching her curiously as she slightly turned in place, her eyes surveying the whole sky. Dipper breathed out heavily, her fingers tickling her palms as she pressed them into fists.

Her gaze left the sky, slowly sliding down to her feet. The sky always reminded her of how human she was, of how insignificant she was. Especially also being around a demon, who is probably older than the sky itself. If circumstances with Bill were different, perhaps she would have serenaded him with questions of times past. But it was how it was, and currently he was her captor. She still wondered if she could get anything out of him.

Dipper began walked towards the door of the shack, the crackling of gravel underneath her shoes the only noise she made. When she walked inside, she held the door open expecting a certain demon to be following her into the shack. When he didn’t come, she glanced behind her. Bill was gone, gone from his human form. She could still feel his presence though, all the way to when she crawled in bed. Dipper swore she felt him brush hair tenderly out of her face as she drifted into sleep.

 


	3. Knives

She fluttered her eyes open, the morning sunlight creeping into her vision. A golden eye peered down at her, a wide smile matching it. Dipper stifled a scream and scrambled to sit up, Bill sitting up to avoid being hit. Her mouth was agape as she looked over to Mason’s bed, finding her brother already up and gone.

“What the hell?!” she angrily whispered, clawing at the straps of her night tank to cover her chest further.

“I was watching you sleep. You humans sleep for a long time,” Bill commented nonchalantly, looking at the baffled Dipper.

“You can’t just do that, Bill,” Dipper groaned, rubbing her eyes aggressively to rid of the weariness. She sat up a bit straighter and yawned, pulling at her tank straps again. “Can you at least leave me be for a second so I can get dressed. I’m not too happy about a crazy demon guy watching me for that.”

Bill reluctantly left the room while she tugged on some old shorts from when she ran track. They were a bit loose on the leg, but otherwise, she deemed them wearable. Dipper never really was one to care about fashion that much, unless it came to being around someone she found attractive. She let her hair down, the increasingly lighter ends tickling her lower back, and grabbed her trucker hat.

When she reached the kitchen, Bill had met Mason and Grunkle Stan. They all seemed happy enough, Bill shining a faux smile at the two. Relief washed over Dipper as Mason beamed at her, motioning for her to join the conversation as well. It felt like decades since she had last seen Mason genuinely smile at her, and she was just thankful that Bill held up his end of the bargain. Perhaps trading her freedoms for Mason’s wasn’t such a bad thing, as he wasn’t brooding anymore.

Dipper sat down at the table and grabbed a piece of toast from the center plate, a cup of coffee already made for her. She sipped it lightly, the hot liquid burning her upper lip and running down her throat like a stream of lava. Her stomach felt warm and full after drinking it, face flushed and warm. Even on hot summer days in Oregon, she enjoyed the heat and comfort of coffee. Bill had a cup by his arm with only a few sips gone of it. She didn’t strike him as the type of creature who’d enjoy the taste.

“What were your plans for today, Dipdop?” Mason asked, leaning his weight onto his elbows.

“Well, I was going to go-”

“We’ll catch up later. Her and I have business to get done. We’ll be done shortly though!” Bill interjected with a smile. Dipper eyed him salty, and then agreed to his statement hesitantly. Mason faltered for a second, but seemed not to think anything of it. He left the room with the intention of catching up with knitting. As soon as he left, a shiver ran coolly down her spine. She turned her gaze to meet Bill’s, his gold eyes intently watching her.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep calm, “what business do we have to attend to?”

“Business better kept upstairs. I just want to give this whole deal a push, really,” he said smoothly, pushing away from the circular dining table. He made his way upstairs, Dipper following submissively in tow. She hated to be so damn easy to take advantage of, but at her and Mason’s life, she learned to keep quiet and obey. When they met the attic room, he turned around in the center of the room.

“Here.”

Dipper gulped and walked closer, brushing her hair out of her face. She felt his hands glide underneath her jaw, circling around her upper neck. She panicked, her hands flying to his wrists in an attempt to pull the offending hand off. Dipper let out a small mewling noise as she pulled at them, her eyes meeting his. He didn’t show any emotion. She gulped. With his free hand he knocked her hat off her head.

“Any noise from you Pinetree and Mason’s deader than a doornail,” he spoke flatly. She nodded slowly and as much as she could with her neck in his grasp.

He guided her towards the bed, pushing her backwards to sit on it. Her heartbeat quickened as he knelt in front of her, taking her wrist in his hand and pulling it down to him. Bill turned her arm to where the inside was facing him, the pale of her forearm unmarked and tempting. He ran a single finger down the skin, causing her to light gasp at the feeling. His hand left her arm and pulled a black knife from his dress pant pocket. She swallowed deeply again at the sight of the well sharpened knife. His hand ran up her forearm again, smoothing the skin.

Bill grasped the knife in his free hand, using the tip of it to wedge underneath her chin and make him look at her. She squeezed her fingers together, bunching the covers underneath her and keeping her eyes on his face. The point cut her skin, dragging the edge down her pristine skin to her wrist. Blood started to prick from the open wound, her eyes screwing shut at the burn. He grinned as she expressed her pain, dragging the point up her forearm again. He started at her elbow and dragged down again, blood coming to the surface. Dipper grabbed at the sheet, clenching her jaw at the sharp pain.

He pulled her arm closer to him, bringing his lips to the top of the open wound and running his tongue down the length of the cut. She released the sheet a bit as she felt the rough tip of his tongue on her wound, the blood smearing on either side of the cut from the saliva. She bit her lip, feeling him trace the wounds with his tongue. It stung, but it was better than the actual action of ripping her skin with his knife. Bill looked up at her again, and rose from his knees. His hand drifted to the back of her neck, blood smeared on his lips, and pulled her close to him. Dipper put her hands on his chest to push him back, the taste of her blood on his lips infiltrated her mouth. She whined into his mouth and her hands pushed him back, desperate for air and relief from the tangy taste of blood. He grabbed her bottom lip between his sharp teeth and slowly pulled away, pulling her lip in the process.

“Bill, what do I do with my arm? I can’t just leave it out,” she whispered, his forehead against hers. He was panting a bit, his arms straddling her hips. She felt one of his hands run up her wounded forearm, his thumb pressing painfully against the wound.

“Wrap it up,” he suggested, sitting back away from her.

Dipper examined her arm now that the demon had sat aware from her. Two raised red lines stretched from her wrist to her elbow, blood smeared along either side of them. She let her finger trace them lightly, taking off any excess blood off the wound so it could dry somewhat clean.

“That was a clean knife?” she asked quietly, keeping her eyes on her lap and wounded arm. He was reclined against the wall, blood still smeared on his lips.

“You should be fine, Pinetree. The worst thing that could happen is you lose the arm, no biggy.”

Even though she wasn’t facing him, she could feel his wide shit-eating grin from behind. Dipper pushed herself off the bed and walked into the small attic bathroom. She ran the wound under the cold water, shaking at the icy water running down the blood. A mixture of the facet water and her blood pooled in the sink as she washed it. She poured some hydrogen peroxide on the wound, bubbling around the open cut. Dipper wrapped it tightly to stop the bleeding, and returned to the room. Bill was no where in the room, only a slight dip of the covers from where he had sat. She sighed and headed downstairs, wincing at any pressure on the wound.

She assumed he must be back in the mindscape, wrecking hell with other stupid people who made the decision to deal with him. Mason was sitting in the living room, lively talking to Stan while they watched some old western on the dingy TV. He smiled at Dipper and jumped from his seat to greet her. She enveloped in a hug, which threatened tears in her eyes. Mason was back to normal, and was hugging her. After her horrible morning and painful endeavors, she was wrapped in a warm, loving hug. Dipper wrapped her arms around his back and breathed in the smell of coffee and Hollister cologne. She didn’t want to let go.

“Hey, can you take that mushy sibling stuff somewhere else? I’m tryin’ watch TV here, kids,” Stan grumbled from the recliner, ducking his head to the side to try and get a look at the TV. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Mason and pulled him into the kitchen.

“Let’s go do something, Mason. Like old times when we were twelve. Mystery Twins?”

Mason stared at Dipper as she blabbered at him, her hands tightly gripping his arms. He had noticed the bandage, but stayed quiet about it. He laughed musically and ruffled her hair lightly, just enough to mess it up.

“Sure thing, Dipdop. You sure you won’t mind my “random crush of the day?” he joked with a smile.

“No, no, no! I miss that, Mason, I miss you!” Dipper gushed, grabbing his face in her hands, as if Mason was just a mirage.

Mason laughed and pulled his cheeks out of her grasp, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m not going to complain. What did you have in mind to do?”

Dipper thought for a moment, “Maybe a walk or something? Go to the lake?”

“How about we get something to eat first? Maybe we can get in contact with Pacifici, I haven’t seen him in, God, since we left 6 years ago,” his cheeks were tinted red in the slightest. Though Dipper was in good standings with Pacifici, she really wanted it to be just them. She sighed a bit and then smiled, “sure.”

As Mason called the Northwest, she trekked back up to her room to get properly dressed and out of her sleep attire. Blood just peaked through the cotton bandage wrapped around her arm, tainting the white bandage. Dipper looked at it solemnly and continued getting dressed, cognizant of a certain demon presence that hovered over her shoulder. She tried to ignore it, thumbing through her clothes to find a shirt. She pulled out a blue baseball tee and khaki shorts, laying them out on her bed cover as she turned to face the empty room. Her eyebrows furrowed, annoyed.

“Can you leave me alone for at least today? I let you cut me up, do whatever you want, the least you can give me is a peaceful day with Mason.”

“Don’t you mean Mason and Pacifici?” his taunting voice resonating inside her head. She breathed out her shock, her hands covering her ears as if to block out the invading voice.

“Get out of my head, Bill,” she hissed, aggressively holding her ears, fingernails biting into her skin. She could still hear faint laughter, but for the most part, she couldn’t feel him or hear him. She stood still for a few moments, blood dry underneath her fingernails, and pulled on her clothes quickly. When she ran back downstairs, Mason was cheerfully waiting for her, unaware of her troubles in the attic. Dipper put on a somewhat faux smile.

 

“Ready to go? Pacifici said he’d meet us at a cafe somewhere in town.”

Dipper nodded and tucked her cap securely on her head. Mason held the door open as she walked through, and then followed in suit to the car. He courteously drove, instead of her, to the cafe. She wondered if he had been there before, as he apparently knew the directions after calling it “somewhere in town.” Small talk resonated in the car, albeit a bit awkward from the large gap of time they hadn’t really talked. Maybe Pacifici being there would help with the whole situation. She was sure that Mason still had a childhood crush on him, his cheeks blushing red with every mention of the Northwest boy. She could use it as payback for the countless time when they were twelve and Mason would try and deviously set her and Wendy up. It never worked, but it always got a rise out of Dipper.

When they parked, Pacifici was already there and leaning up against a probably brand new black Porsche. His white hair was neatly combed back and he was dressed nice in a kept flannel button up and khaki shorts. He still oozed a rich aura, his lips curled in a sneer on habit. Despite years of being acquainted with him, she still felt a bit inferior to him. Mason didn’t, though, running up to him and hugging him. Pacifici stood rigid for a moment, then giving in and hugging her brother back. She smiled, though her heart tugged a bit at the site of her brother comfy with a boy she used to have a crush on. Dipper gave him a quick hug before making the two actually go into the cafe.

The trio sat at a small table that was next to the window, Dipper going up to order for them. Pacifici was a minimalist when it came to eating out, only asked for a coffee. She brought the orders back to their table and handed them out to their respectful orderer. She had only ordered a mocha Frappuccino, generously drizzled with chocolate syrup. Her and Mason used to always order Frappuccinos, even though it was un-caffeinated, and act like adults. Now that she had the real thing, the taste of being an adult wasn’t quite as thrilling. Dipper sipped it, partially and boredly listening into the two’s conversation. Whenever Mason was around Pacifici, she always forgot how refined the blond was. He sat pristinely with a napkin on his lap, while Mason leaned on the table with his elbows.

Dipper excused herself to the bathroom, getting up and neatly tucking her chair into the table. She leaned in the corner of the small room which forked into a male and female bathroom, checking her phone mindlessly. A few missed calls, probably telemarketers, and an old text from her mom when they had arrived two days ago. Her heart sunk. So much had changed in her life in the past two days, for better and for worse. Though Mason was back to his regular perky self, she was completely enslaved to a mind demon who seemed to have a knack for taking some sort of sexual frustration out on her. Her eyes lingered to her bandaged arm, dingy with dry blood now. Her fingers traced the wrapped bandages, eyes following. She jumped when a small voice said, “Hey.”

Dipper’s eyes shot up and met Pacifici's blue eyes.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you be out there with Mason? He suggested for you to come with.”

Pacifici shrugged at the notion, his body dangerously close to hers. Dipper felt her stomach tuck at him being so close to her. Though she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive, guilt tinged her heart, knowing how much he meant to Mason. She tried to duck out of the way, but his arm created a wall. She slightly narrowed her eyes at him, putting her hand firmly on his blocking arm.

“I think you should go back to Mason, he’s probably wondering where you went,” she spoke coolly, ducking underneath his blocking arm and brushing past him towards the table. He grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her back, Dipper dragging on her heels to slow him down. Pacifici held her small wrist in his hand in a strong grip, causing her to wince at the pressure on her already wounded arm.

“You’re far more interesting than he is,” he said back to her, his neat hair messed up again. Dipper scowled at him and tugged on her wrist a bit, trying to loosen his grip.

“Let. Me. Go,” she growled, grinding her teeth and pulled back.

“As you wish,” the blond smirked, releasing her and causing her to stumble back into the wall from all the pent up pressure. She brushed her hair out of her face and turned on her heels back to the table where Mason sat alone. He was painfully oblivious to her and Pacifici's little run in.

“Let’s go, Mason, Grunkle Stan just- uh- called me and told us to be back so we could work a shift at the Gift Shop.”

He looked up at her, confused, but took her word and walked to the car with her. Dipper climbed into the front seat and turned the car into ignition, looking through her rearview mirror at Pacifici, who leaned against the car as if nothing just happened. She quickly drove away and out of town to the outskirts where the Shack was.

Why did things always happen to her? It’s as if Bill cursed her whole life too, or what she had left of it. She was mentally and physically exhausted from all the days’ trouble. First Bill, who cut her arm and made her bleed and then kissed her like he actually cared for her life. Then Pacifici, who she narrowly avoided. A shiver ran up her spine at the possibilities. Where would she be now if she hadn’t gotten out of his way? Surely Bill would have ‘punished’ her, after all, he had the rule of no boys. She wondered if that extended to boys that she didn’t want.

They arrived back at the Shack, and by some sort of divine providence, her lie hadn’t been completely wrong. Soos just got off work, though he hung around after words just because. Mason insisted on taking the job, but Dipper took it instead. She needed some time where she was busy and not focused on the wreck of her life. Besides, Bill couldn’t mess with her in here, right? Not when she was trying to keep customers happy. She settled down in her chair, and for once in the past two days, felt normal.

**  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my beta reader, dakota_lines! 
> 
> im going to try and put up a chapter every tuesday (-:


	4. Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for murder / slightly disturbing happenings

Bill had been silent since their last run in. It churned her stomach, he was never this quiet. He had checked in a few times, passively, and never stayed long. Dipper ran her finger down the jagged cuts on her forearms, scabs starting to form. Perhaps he was waiting for it to heal, so he could reopen them. The thought prompted a shiver down her spine and she pulled on her vest further.

Dipper was a pro at detecting when Bill was around, even if in the mindscape. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and the air around her seemed to cool by 10 degrees. She silently wondered if only she felt the cold, as Mason and Stan didn’t seem to budge when she was enveloped in cold. It was miserable, as if Bill had transferred Mason’s depression to her. She was never hungry, never excited, always dull. Dipper would sleep for hours upon hours and wake up hoping it was all a dream. When she would see the blood stained bandages, she wept.

Mason had caught on as well and would often sit up in their attic room and talk to her, regardless of her consciousness. He had offered to drive her back to Piedmont, but it was always quickly shot down. Although her creeping depression, Dipper wanted to make it clear to Bill she wouldn’t be that easily defeated. When he visited in a human form, she tried to look her best, even if he had seen her through the mindscape moping about.

She was laying on her bed with the journal rested on her stomach when he decided he’d drop in for a visit. Dipper shot up and clutched the journal, eyeing the blond who stood in the center of her room. She mentally cursed herself for not getting dressed, stuck in her pajama shorts and top. Fear struck her heart as she came to her bearings. Nothing good ever came from him visiting her room. In two strides of his long legs, he was sitting next to her on the bed. He reclined back as if he owned the place. Small spots of dried blood littered his pristine white shirt.

“Wow, Pinetree, you look bad.”

“Thanks, I didn’t need you to point that out,” she muttered, turning her head in the opposite direction and crossing her arms.

Bill chuckled lightly and sat up a bit, his hands grabbing her upper arm and pulling her back just enough to where she’d fall. Dipper let out a noise of surprise as she fell back into him, his arm around her shoulder and his head leaned on hers. He held her tight, disabling her from getting away.

“Aw, kid, relax. We’re all friends.”

Dipper struggled and pushed at his torso, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Friends don’t cut friend’s forearms open for their pleasure.”

He pulled her tighter to his chest, his fingers ghosting up her side. Dipper clenched her teeth, reaching over and gripping his white dress shirt within her fist. “I can get you to like it.”

“I don’t like the context of that,” she spoke monotonically, stopping her struggle. His fingers kept lightly going up her side, brushing her night shirt out of the way and touching her skin. She swallowed and curled her toes at the light and innocent gesture. She could feel him smile.

“That’s it,” he cooed, running his fingers in a circle on her waist. Dipper visibly sucked in air as he trailed them further south around the waistband of her shorts. She arched her back involuntarily while he traced the edge of her shorts.

“S-stop that,” she hissed breathlessly, mustering up her strength to pull his hand away. He didn’t budge.

Bill’s hand smoothed over her shorts to her thigh, gripping it tightly for a moment and then beginning to run his fingertips lightly. Dipper instinctively moved closer to him, tipping her head back a bit on his arm. He hummed and grazed his teeth across her jawline, causing her to tip her head back further. Bill’s long spider-like fingers moved to her inner thigh, tracing circles slowly. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to get him to stop.

“Please,” she mewled, “stop.”

He snickered into her jaw and slid his fingers further up her thigh. She knocked her knees and clenched her teeth, trying to keep a moan down. Dipper failed, an embarrassing moan emitting from her throat. Just as they reached her uppermost thigh, his fingers slid off her thigh and back up her body. Bill continued to assault her jaw and neck with bites, his hand now comfortably resting on her stomach. She sat uncomfortably, but obediently, as he bit her up.

“It’s been awhile since I got to play with you,” he chortled into her neck, rubbing her stomach lightly. Dipper whined.

Bill slowed down gradually, eventually pulling away from her neck. Her flesh was covered with red and purple bites ranging from her jaw to her collarbone. Teeth marks were engraved like marble in her otherwise porcelain skin. He admired his bruise work for a few moments before letting her go and getting up himself. Dipper sat paralyzed on the bed, her neck throbbing from all the attention. When color started to drain from the room, she sat neutral.

“Get up,” he said sternly, walking over and pulled her hand from her lap. She stumbled to her feet, fighting for balance. The attic room was completely void of color, herself and Bill the only source of pigments.

“What kind of sick thing do you want now?” Dipper spoke hoarsely, crossing her arms tightly on her chest. She wasn’t necessarily cold, the mindscape didn’t have a temperature at all. It felt... odd.

“If you’re going to do everything I say for the sake of your stupid sibling, I want to test how durable you are through, mm, certain situations,” Bill purred, walking towards her slowly. He ran a finger across her jaw and to her chin, propping her chin up.

Dipper tossed her chin out of his fingers and scowled.

“Three strikes, and you’re out, kid.”

The surroundings changed completely from the monotone, grey based setting to a pure white with some grey undertone room. It resembled much of a hospital room, a cold grey medical table in the middle of the room. Bill was behind her, she could feel his cold aura radiating. His hands grasped the back of her arms and he leaned down to reach her ear.

She shrunk back into him as a thrashing girl who resembled much of herself appeared on the table. The girl had to be at least ten, but was obviously younger Dipper. Young Dipper’s face was blotchy and red, her mouth bound and her hands and feet strapped to the table. Tears ran down her cheeks and she made pathetic sounds that sounded like she was trying to cry out. Dipper whimpered at the sight and tried to back up further.

“Kill her,” he said into her ear firmly.

Dipper gasped and shook her head slowly, “no, Bill... I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Young Dipper looked at Dipper, eyes wild and pleading. Dipper soaked back a sob, looking at her younger self. A blade appeared into her hand, the leather hilt pressed in her sweaty palms. Bill pushed her hard in the direction of the young girl, a gruesome grin on his face. Dipper stumbled forward towards the table, shaking hard as the victim began to thrash even more so at the sight of the blade.

‘Do it for Mason, do it for Mason,’ she reassured herself, ‘Mason is real, she is just an illusion made by Bill. She doesn’t exist.’

When Dipper reached the metal operation table, the girl was silently weeping and was tiring from her desperate attempts to break free. Dipper swallowed deeply and stood over the girl, casting a shadow on the younger’s tear-stained face. She slowly reached out a hand towards her younger self, hands shaking. Young Dipper flinched for a second, but eased when Dipper rested her hand on her face. Oh God, it was skin. There was skin. Dipper’s eyes filled with tears and she whipped around to Bill.

“You’re a fucking monster!” she cried out, tears streaming down her face. Her voice cracked and she placed the blade down beside herself. “I can’t do this. Oh my God, oh my God. She has skin, I can feel her.”

He said nothing for a moment, but spoke soon after. “You’d save a non-existing girl’s life, rather than your own living brother? If you just kill her, then we can move on.”

Fear struck her heart again. Mason would die. Either way, she’d be killing someone. She slowly looked back at her younger self, the girl blinking away tears. Realization set in the young girls eyes and she immediately began thrashing and crying out through her bound mouth. Dipper breathed a shaky breath and grabbed the hilt of the blade. She tried to block out the pleading struggles of the girl as she raised the blade over young Dipper’s heart. Dipper ripped down, the pleas and cries ceasing with a hoarse grasp. She swallowed, her stomach turning and her eyes sealed shut. Dipper collapsed on the floor and let out a wail, sobbing again. The knife clattered beside her heaving, weeping body. When she looked back up, the body was gone.

Bill still stood in front of the doorway, his hands neatly folded behind his back. Dipper hauled herself to her feet and took a miserable running start at him.

“You bastard! Fuck you, fuck you!” she screamed at him, pounding her hands into his chest. Her voice got weaker and so did her punches, “fuck you!”

He grabbed her wrists and pushed her back away from him. Her hands were trembling but her eyes were cold as she stared at him. Bill glared down at her boredly and smoothly raised a hand, slapping her straight across the face. Dipper stumbled backwards, her skin tingling and red from where he back slapped her. She cradled the cheek, the taste of blood in her mouth. She began to choke as he lifted her from the ground by her neck, her hands weakly trying to remove his hands. Dipper sputtered and kicked her legs, a little dribble of blood running down her chin. Her brown eyes were watering, though she wasn’t sure if it was from sadness or fear. Mason was safe, and that’s all that matters.

“That was for disobeying me kid, don’t cross me,” he snarled through closed teeth. Dipper tried to respond, but he held her neck tighter.

“Please…let me go,” she managed to choke out, while furiously trying to pry his hands off. He abruptly dropped her, Dipper falling roughly on her back. Her tailbone pinched with pain that spread throughout her lower back. Every breath was felt forced, like her lungs had been crushed. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes, instead her focus on her bare feet just tinged with dirt.

Bill made some sort of laughing noise, though the undertone was very clearly facetious. He reached down and grabbed her by her brunette hair, taking a wad of it tightly wrapped around his hand, and pulled up, forcing her to her feet. As soon as she was on her aching feet, her back was against the wall. She could feel Bill’s hand drifting up her wounded arm, rubbing harshly on the wound. She bit her tongue as her forearm erupted in fire from his careless touch. Bill smoothed his lips onto her cheek, his sharp teeth running over her cheekbone. She bit back tears.

Dipper felt his cold hands slide down the cleavage of her breasts and stomach, the cold touch returning to her thighs. His lips drifted from her cheek to her lips, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Her body was too weak to fight back, letting him do whatever he pleased. She didn’t want to go through what she had already again, even if that meant ultimate submission. Dipper could feel him smile into her lips sinisterly, his hand drifting to her jaw and tilting her head back a bit so he could have easier access.

His legs pinned her to the wall, his tongue infiltrating her mouth. Dipper let out a small whimper of defeat as he bit her lip hard. She felt so utterly weak in his presence, the way he handled her like a toy. His mouth tasted of blood and red wine, vile and sharp. Bill moved slowly in the way he kissed at first, gradually becoming more passionate and sloppy. Dipper gripped his shirt, neither pulling him closer or pushing him away. His hand had a tight grip on her bare upper thigh, the other cradling her neck carelessly. He pulled her closer to him, widening his stance a tad and sliding the hand that gripped her thigh up to her waist, encircling it.

Dipper held back a gasp as he spontaneously slid her up the wall, her legs naturally latching on to his waist. His hips pressed against hers, her legs rubbing against the silken fabric of his dress pants and shirt. She felt dirty and wrong in the embrace, her hands running through his hair as he kissed her furiously. It was like she was under a trance, her mind screaming no and begging to stop, while her body took control. Perhaps he was mind controlling her, after all, this was his territory.

Bill kissed the side of her mouth, his teeth leaving red marks as it trailed down her jaw to the side of her neck. Red marks and bruises already were noticeable on her neck, the pressure from his mouth and the sharpness of his teeth pricking and angering the already irritated skin. He slid his tongue over purple bruises and scabbed teeth marks, the different ridges in her skin apparent in the touch of his tongue. He passed over her neck and collarbone, leaving new bruises scattered on her skin. Dipper emitted quiet gasps and moans as he nipped at sensitive places on her skin.

It bothered her that moments of intimacy between them only happened after he scarred her, mentally or physically. He knew that’s when she was at her weakness, vulnerable for him to taint. Bill knew that if he caught her without some sort of scar, he wouldn’t be able to get as far as he got. With as weak as she was right now, and how much he knew that, she was scared for what he’d attempt with her. Cuts on her arm had gotten him a kiss. Slapping, strangling, mentally abusing got him pinning her to a wall, touching and kissing places she’d never let anyone touch before. With each bite and kiss, he advanced with his plans of doing worse things with her. The way he was acting seemed an awful lot like him trying to get her in bed. She wanted to slow things down, without the side effect of him killing her or Mason.

Dipper placed her hands underneath his jaw, lifting him up to her mouth. She tried not to cringe, willingly letting him kiss her. He lowered down from her position of her legs wrapped around waist, her feet lightly hitting the ground. She leaned up, once again a good head shorter than him, and began to nip at his neck. His eye lit up at the small, sharp pain of her biting at his neck. Bill stumbled back a bit, letting Dipper escape from her cage against the wall. She slowly pulled away from his neck, leaving the area with one last bite at his collarbone. He seemed too dazed by the pain he had felt to realize that she had moved away from him completely.

Slowly, the room started to morph and drip back in color. The cold, monotone hospital room was replaced with the warm colors and safe feeling of her attic bedroom. She tried not to fling herself onto the bed and curl up underneath the covers, instead turning around to face Bill. He had left the daze he had been in, a familiar grin widening on his face again. He stood poised and elegant as always, smack in the middle of her room.

“Like always pet, it was a pleasure.”

With that, he left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the holdup, yall!


	5. Night Drive

Ever since the incident, Dipper’s personality took a turn for the worst. Mason pushed a weekend away from the Shack even more than he had before. She desperately wanted to accept and run away from all her problems, but Bill was so unpredictable. Every sight of death made her feel like light headed and nauseous. Her hands were shaky and her breath was hollow, her eating habits reduced to one small meal a day.

One late night, Dipper scurried downstairs quietly, the only sound the dull thudding of her feet. She grabbed keys to her car off the rack and crept outside. As soon as her feet hit the rough gravel she began to sprint to the car, hastily opening the driver's door and falling in. She jammed the key and turned to ignite it, her foot slamming onto the pedal and jerking it into motion. When she drove, she felt like he couldn’t get her. That she left him behind, that he couldn’t take her and make her doing his bidding.

The roads were quiet and dark, the lights of her car illuminating the asphalt. The moon cast light onto the tips of pine trees and on the high tops of the valley that the town was consumed by. The backroad twisted and turned like a snake, Dipper slamming on the breaks with every one of them. She reached over to the lit up radio and turned it on, adjusting the volume to a low hum of classic rock. Dipper tapped her bony fingers on the steering wheel to drums of the song. Occasional cars drove past, mostly hormonal teenagers who were up to no good, but besides those she was completely and utterly alone. Not even did she feel the presence of her captor watching her. She felt free for once.

Lights danced across the deer’s solid black eyes as it froze in the middle of the road. Dipper’s heart sped up, her feet scrambling to the breaks as fast as she could. Her heart was in her throat as she slammed her foot on the break, but far too late. An audible thump was heard as the deer was hit by the front bumper. Nausea ran over her and she pulled over onto the shoulder, stumbling to the side of the road and side stepping the road killed deer.

“No, no, no, no,” she hyperventilated, her fingers clasped over her mouth. Dipper vomited into the ditch, clutching her stomach as she threw up pure stomach bile. Tears were streaming down her face when she stood up, staggering backwards to the car. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shaking and sobbing, not daring to look back.

Dipper coughed and gagged again, an arm tightly around her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut, tears tangled in her eyelashes. She was heaving aggressively and shaking her head, “I’m a murderer, oh my God.”

Light was starting to peak in the east, catching her eye. Dipper coughed once more and then slowly walked around back to the driver’s side, eyes cast down to avoid the corpse of the deer. She stepped into the car and harshly swerved around the animal and sped back to Shack, the smell of death prominent. She didn’t turn on any music.

* * *

 

Dipper woke up at 2 pm the next day, tears dried on her face. No one asked, and no one bothered to wake her up. When a certain blond hair demon infiltrated on her room, she slammed her head underneath her pillow tightly. She didn’t want to look at him, feel him, smell him, and taste him. She could feel the bed indent where he sat, causing her to tuck in her knees further. Dipper sniffed loudly and muttered, “Go away.”

Bill laughed his annoying high pitched laugh, and pulled grabbed the pillow off her face. She grabbed his wrist and dug her nails into them, narrowing her eyes. She pulled him towards her and the pushed him away- hard. He caught himself from falling backwards and turned to her, instinctively raising a hand to slap her. Dipper flinched, her body rigid and expecting a slap. She gazed up at the raised hand and then him, her brown eyes wide. His face softened and he slowly retracted his hand to his lap.

“I’d take away the attitude, kid, we wouldn’t want another death, would we?” he said smoothly, enticing a reaction out of her. She was shaking with anger, her hands taut in a fist.

“It was gruesome, kind of like the deer. Poor thing, you could’ve stopped,” he said in mock sadness, taking off his leather gloves.

Dipper pounced from her position, without a purpose, full of anger. Her first instinct was to go to the neck, her legs awkwardly straddling his hips as she reached for him. Her lips were curled, a wild look in the usually tame eyes. She wrapped her hands around his neck, his hands lightly on her wrists. He had a smile on his face, proud of the reaction he got from her. Even at the tightest she squeezed, the pressure felt like nothing.

“You bastard! You- you just wanted a rise out of me!” her fingers fell down from her neck but grasped the white dress shirt he was wearing. “Don’t talk about her! I hate you! I hate you so much!”

Tears started to run down her face as she slammed her fists on his chest. She collapsed against him, her legs still straddling his. He pulled on the caring facade, letting her head rest on his chest as he slowly ran a hand up and down her back. Her fingers were still tangled in the dress shirt, her back rising and falling with each silent sob. “I hate you,” she breathed out between sobs.

“Shh.”

“I hate you,” she said again, her voice quieter and more drawn out. She fell into a napping state, her grasp on his shirt starting to release. He continued to run a hand down her back, rubbing circles on her lower back. He pulled her off his lap and laid her down slowly back onto her bed.

Bill took this chance to observe her, letting his eyes wander all over her body. Her chestnut strands of hair twirled on her face, framing the heart shape nicely. Her lips were slightly plump, the corners upturned at the slightest. Long eyelashes dusted on her round cheeks, her eyes not necessarily large, but fitting of her face. Her nose was long and buttoned at the end, giving a somewhat youthful look to her face. Dipper had a well-developed chest and a decently sized waist, her lips not much wider than her waist. Her legs weren’t very long, her being short, and her thighs were nicely plump. Bill trailed a hand lightly up her thigh, Dipper shivering in her sleep and pulling her knees to the chest. A small smile placed on his lips.

He ran his fingers through her hair, combing the brown tendrils out of her face smoothly. His fingers dipped to her jaw, running down the soft skin to her chin. She was rather pretty, albeit her simple looks. He had certainly seen women, girls, more attractive than the chestnut haired 18 year old. Something about her was intriguing though, perhaps the way she stubbornly resisted him. He had had many women quickly, but this one was a struggle. Bill smoothed his thumb over her freckled cheeks.

The nap was short lived. She woke up just after he had sat down by her head, his fingers running mindlessly through her hair as he stared at the opposite wall. She cautiously blinked, not daring to move and cause him to come back from wherever he was. Dipper couldn’t sit forever, unfortunately, she stirred just a bit. Bill woke from the silent daze and grinned down at her. If she didn’t know he was a sinister mind demon, she would’ve thought it was genuine.

Dipper sat up slowly and stretched, her eyes away from him and blank. It was rather alluring, her long and lightly freckled arms. He fought licking his lips, eyes on her with a predatory gaze. He knew that she didn’t trust him at all, and every time he advanced on her she’d hold a grudge greater than before. Bill wanted her in all ways possible, after all, she was his pet. His blood boiled a bit at the thought- why did he care what she wanted? Dipper belonged to him. His pupils dilated at the thought of her on her knees in front of him, completely willing and submissive to his wants. Bill clutched the sheets on her bed, causing a curious glance to be cast to him.

“Can you leave?” she said, sniffing and crossing her arm over her chest, covering her chest. “I need to change, and I don’t want you here while I do so.”

Bill twirled his cane in his gloved hands and stood up, pulling her wrists to him so she was slightly suspended and just a breath away from his lips.

“A please wouldn’t hurt you, tuts,” he said, a breath against her lips. She visibly shuddered and tugged her wrists away a bit.

“Please, Bill, will you leave?”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, promptly releasing her to stagger backwards onto the bed, “I needed to go anyways. Things to do, humans to terrorize. The usual, ya know.”

He left with a wave of his hands and his long tailcoat trailing after him. Dipper sat herself and put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples and then running her hands through the brown tendrils of hair. She exhaled loudly and rolled her shoulders, standing up. Time to get back to being human.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god???? sorry this took so long! one thing after another, really! school started, unplanned vacations, and my laptop has to be in the shop for two weeks. for a while, please expect irregular posting :// really unfortunate happenings
> 
> thank yall!


	6. Submit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for blood, asphyxiation, and dark sexual themes in general!

Though Bill didn’t appear in her dreams, the horror and chaos he caused did. Sleep was harder to come by, no matter what she did she couldn’t escape him. Sleep was plagued with visions of war and famine, and in consciousness he would torment her mind. Every flash of gold was him, every cheerful laugh and twinkling blue eyes. Despite her growing paranoia, Dipper forced herself into labor more than usual. Gone was the slow and dreary version of herself, replaced with an almost grossly cheery facade. The last thing she needed was Mason finding out about her little deal and badgering her until they found a way to change it back. 

“Sis, can you refold the t-shirts please?” Mason asked, carrying a box of stock towards the storage room. Dipper jerked out of daydreaming and began to refold shirts that had been tossed lazily onto the stack. She stifled a yawn with her hand, working quickly with short glances at the clock. Five minutes until her shift was over, when she would eagerly take a nap with no dreams. She hoped Bill wouldn’t make a surprise appearance and bother her until she gave him attention. 

Mason reappeared from the storage room, brushing his hands messily on his jeans, his hair into a tight little bun. Though Dipper’s smiles and laughs were as plastic as the displays at the Mystery Shack, he seemed to react happily to the act. It was a warm minuscule fire that lit in her heart at the happiness of her twin, though the cold was overwhelmingly suffocating. 

He caught Dipper’s gaze and smiled broadly, brushing a strand of brown hair from his face. 

“I made some lunch that should be in refrigerator, when you’re off your shift,” he said coolly, leaning against the lazy susan full of books. 

Dipper placed the last shirt down on the pile and cocked an eyebrow, “you’re not leaving this shift? Usually you jump at getting off first.”

“I’m going to lunch with Gunter and Candan today, and they’re not free until later. You don’t mind, right?”

“No, no,” she responded smoothly, crookedly smiling, “go ahead. I don’t want you to feel attached at the hip to me. Go have fun.”

“You’re the best,” Mason said, ruffling her hair and then heading back outside to get more shipments of tacky souvenirs.

Dipper headed back out of the shop into the home, heading upstairs to her room to change out of work clothes. She hesitated briefly outside the wooden door, hand resting on the rusting handle. It was so easy for him in situations like that, unable to escape from a door impossibly locked from the outside. She could easily just sleep on the couch and later change, she supposed, but either way she’d have to face her room. Dread set in her stomach, as if she could feel his gaze upon her already, and she opened the door.

Her room was unexpectedly quiet. It was almost eerie, she reckoned, that even the sound of the usual electrical hum or rickety fan weren’t there. Dipper cautiously walked in, carefully stepping to not make the floors creak. She had successfully maneuvered across the room in peace when she heard a large creak behind her, causing her to spin around with her lips already curled into a snarl. Bill was leaning against her vanity, his topcoat slung across it messily, leaving him in his simple black dress pants and white button-up with rolled sleeves. No matter how much she hated him, she never ceased to feel insecure around the nicely dressed demon, especially in her khaki shorts and work polo. 

“I have to say, Bill, that was the quietest I’ve heard you come in. Want a reward?” Dipper sneered, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. Bill chuckled just a bit under his breath, a more serious tone on his face. His gaze was dark and predatory, stalking over to her painstakingly slow as if he was hunting prey. Dipper tried her best to keep a calm, albeit strong, air to her though her stomach twisted in fear. She was fighting the instinct to run as fast as she could from her pursuer, backing up until the backs of her legs hit in the mattress. She struggled to keep balance, flaying her arms about until Bill grabbed her by the shoulders firmly and pushed her down onto the bed. Her brown eyes were wide with fear now, scrambling back as far as she could into the corner, knees drawn to her chest. All at once he was upon her, arms on either side of and his head rested in the crook of her neck. She swallowed.

“You have no idea,” he breathed into her neck, midst small bites, “how long I’ve craved you.”

Dipper chewed her lip anxiously as she felt his hand travel down her waist and curve to the inside of her thigh, rubbing them gently. His spider-like fingers were as cold as ice on her warm skin, her mouth parting for a soft noise. 

“Bill, please..” she managed to whisper out, digging her fingers into the sheets.

He ignored her plea, biting up and down her neck, prompting shivers from her. His lips trailed from her jawline to her lips, both of his hands firmly cradling her head. Dipper placed her much smaller hands on his, her nails pricking the milky skin. Bill kissed her roughly, his tongue tracing her lips, invading her while they kissed. She could hardly breathe at all, trying to keep up with his forceful advancements. He pulled away, giving her enough chance to breath while he tugged on her feet and pulled her farther down the bed. His hand pinned her wrists above her head momentarily, his body possessing hers underneath him. He smoothed his hands across her skin underneath her polo and pulled it above her head, kissing from her collarbone down to the edge of ribs. Dipper let out a forced noise of protest, the desire seeping into her stomach to replace anxiety. 

He unbuttoned her pants and slid them off, discarding them across the room somewhere. Obediently keeping her hands above her head, she chewed on her lip that he had just ravished a moment ago. It was bleeding from a small cut that resulted from his roughness, the metallic tang seeping into her mouth as she undressed her to her undergarments. Bill remained sharply dressed, though his golden hair was unruly now. He hovered back over her lips, biting her lower lip so intensely that it caused Dipper to produce a small cry. The look in his eyes was animalistic at the pitiful noise, his pupils dilating from the rush. 

“That noise,” he murmured, “do it again.”

He spoke with renewed dominance, his hands travelling up her body and resting on her neck. Fear set in once more and she quickly gripped his wrists in an attempt to pull him away from her neck. Bill made a seething noise, grabbing her hands and slamming them back above her head.

“Do not touch me without my permission, or tell me what to do,” he growled, placing his hands back at her neck. She nodded numbly with a loss of words. He increased the force on her neck, licking his lips as he watched her face contort. Dipper fought the urge of trying to kick him off, in fear of worsening his already sour mood. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“You,” she choked out, tears pricking at her eyes now.

Bill grinned a toothy grin, his sharp teeth glinting in the streaming afternoon sun. He released the hold on her neck, kissing her aggressively as soon as she tried to breathe in air. Dipper felt as if she was drowning in him, her lungs burning for oxygen. His hands slid south again, a long index finger sliding underneath her modest blue panties. Dipper’s face flushed, digging her nails into her palm as he experimentally ran his cold finger down her warmth. His fingers dipped into her, causing her to squeeze her hands harder.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, screwing her eyes shut as he massaged her clit. Bill left her mouth and began to move down her body, stopping to nip at places that made her curl her toes against her will. He bit the insides of her thighs, leaving a red spot that was destined to turn into an ugly hickey. His tongue dove inside of her, his fingers still rubbing her sensitive spot that prompted needy noises that drove him crazy. Lost in a haze, she moved her hands from above her head to his hair, running her fingers through it with occasional gripping. Bill stopped abruptly and ripped her hands off him, pinning them harshly against the bed again with a growl. 

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warned, leaning down to press his lips against her cheek. She wanted him to touch her again, her body shaking with need. Bill sat up on her hips, a smirk on his face. 

“You’re so easily possessed,” he crooned to her, cradling her head and leaning forward to brush her lips, “you screamed my name in hate yesterday and yet here you are, underneath me, completely willing and wanting more.”

It was if she had been completely snapped out of her daze, her eyes becoming sharp. His lips were hovering just above hers, the uncomfortable feeling of the situation setting in. She swallowed thickly, her lips curling into a snarl and hate seeping back into her.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” she hissed. Her skin was bare and hot underneath him, sickly aware of the sweat that made her skin sticky. Dipper attempted to push him off of her with a breathy hiss at Bill’s vexatious laughter. He pinned her again, a knife materializing in his hand. Her eyes darted to the shining metal blade in his hand, heart rate speeding up.

“No, no,” she pleaded, shaking her head wildly. Bill chuckled again and leaned down to brush his lips over hers again.

“Let's see just how much of a sick son of a bitch I can be,” he spoke against her lips, excitement jolting through his body when she visibly shuddered. He sat back up on her lips, knife clutched tightly in his hand as he decided where he should start. The tip of the knife ghosted across her cheek and down her neck, teasing her with the thought of what was to come. The knife made contact with her shoulder, dragging the blade down it. His pupils dilated, almost taking up the entirety of his golden eyes as she let out a crying sort of noise. Blood pricked at the cut, starting to trickle down her arm. Bill leaned over and ran his tongue up the cut, the metallic tang of her blood overwhelming in his mouth. 

The knife cut across her stomach next, red standing out against her milky skin. He kissed over the incision, blood smearing on his lips as he cleared the blood from it. Dipper went between mewling and crying out at every tear of the knife, at every kiss laid onto the cut. 

“Please stop,” she said, tears streaming silently down her cheeks, “do whatever you want but please.. don’t do this.”

 

The scars on her arm were being reopened by the bloodied knife, the blood staining the white sheets underneath her. Bill looked up from his work at her, looking uncannily like a feral predator who had just killed. His lips were bloody and when he smiled his straight, sharp teeth were bloodstained as well. Bill’s body moved up hers, brushing painfully against the open wounds. He kissed her, dropping the knife and grabbing her head with his hands so she couldn’t move away. She groaned into the kiss, the taste of her blood filling her mouth. He bit down on her lip hard, making her jump in his grasp. He pulled away roughly, his lips still practically against hers.

“Submit to me, give yourself to me. Let me rule you,” he breathed heavily against her lips, fingers digging into her jaw. His golden eyes were searching her brown eyes desperately, awaiting her response to submission to him. She seemed almost back into the previous daze, her breath rapid against his lips and her much smaller hands resting on his. Dipper wanted to scream ‘no’ and run, but something, a feeling, washed over again that she couldn’t resist. She swallowed loud, eyes darting down for a second before returning to his with a fierce gaze.

“I submit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait! also for the cliff hanger!


	7. Panic

He pulled her back to him and began to ravish her lips again, his tongue entering her mouth and tasting her. She moaned into the kiss, tipping her head back as he hovered over her again. His hands were fast and somewhat clumsy as he struggled to take off her bra, eliciting a giggle from Dipper. He stopped and narrowed her eyes at her.

"What's so funny? This stupid contraption-"

"Shh," she said, a grin still on her face, "here."

Dipper sat up a bit and unhooked her bra, pulling it off her shoulders and flinging it aside. Bill kissed her collarbone and then down onto her breast, nipping and sucking at the skin occasionally. His hands were gently massaging the arch of her back, prompting small noises of content from her. She gently chewed her lip, erasing her desire to pull his hair as his lips descended further. Dipper could feel him cutting into her hips, an unnaturally large smile of sharp, shiny teeth. As he began to rub the insides of her thighs, a loud knock on the door caused both of them to leap.

"What?" Dipper called, struggling to find her voice after the pleasurable torture she had just endured.

"It's just Mason, can I come in?" he called from outside the door, slightly rasping his knuckles on the door.

Bill cast her a nasty look, sitting up off of her looking impossibly messy. His eyes seemed dark, aside from the bright blue encircling his slit pupils. He licked his teeth, running a hand through his cornsilk hair and began to button up his shirt, begrudgingly, and giving her her answer.

"Uh, yeah. Hold on," she called back.

Dipper quickly put back on her bra and comfier clothing than before, waiting for Bill to finish before she let Mason in. He made haste to the door, shoving past Mason as she opened the door. Mason looks towards Dipper with a screwed up expression, before walking into the semi cluttered room.

"Who was he?" Mason asked, jutting a thumb back in the direction of Bill. She had assumed Bill would just disappear instead of taking the human way out.

"A friend," she said hastily, nervously playing with the ends of her hair. Mason apparently didn't pick up on the skittish behavior she was presenting, to her relief. Dipper decided to change the subject before he did.

"What're you doing back so early? I thought you were going out to lunch with your friends?"

He looked at her with a puzzled expression, followed by an outpour of laughter. She coughed out a laugh to ease suspicion of her cluelessness.

"I've been gone for almost two hours now," he said with an almost confused look on his face, "I guess time flies when you're having fun."

Mason finished off the sentence with a suggestive eyebrow raise, causing Dipper to flush and punch him in the shoulder. He erupted in laughter again, covering his mouth a bit to cease them. There was a small smile on her face, her eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

"No way in hell," Dipper lied easily, "we're just friends. Honestly."

In that moment, she could feel Bill's eyes upon her, repressing a shiver from the gaze that burned her skin. Mason slapped her on her shoulder and stood up, jerking her from the momentary daze she was in.

"Let's go out tonight- just the two of us. It's time you had some fun."

Mason left and she followed, casting a glance behind her before rushing out of the door.

The tightness of a party dress was unfamiliar to her. It was almost suffocating, the way it squeezed her stomach and chest and thighs. When she looked in the mirror, color rushed to her cheeks at the sight. The dress she hadn't worn since her senior prom was ill fitting in her opinion, hugging her fleshy thighs and bony ribs. Dipper had always loathed her body; it was too wide below the hips and too bony above- the dress accentuated that.

When Mason called, she came downstairs in a rush with her heels in her hand. He went back out to wait in the car, eagerly awaiting Dipper so they could get out before it got too late. She slammed the passenger door when she got in, sudden panic washing over her in the cramped car and the memories of the deer. She locked for a second, lips slightly parted and hands shaking. Mason was, once again, her redeemer from her thoughts.

"Night life here isn't exactly what you would call 'wild,' but that's half the fun. Dude, Robbie is still the weirdest. He literally got so wasted that he smashed his guitar on the bar and cried."

She laughed, despite the nagging feeling of anxiety in her chest. She subconsciously rubbed her chest as if she could ease the feeling, obviously failing. She wanted to get miserably drunk.

The drive to the sad little night club was short, composed of Mason's rambling and the constant tapping of Dipper's feet to ward off any panic. When she strolled into the small building, the music was obnoxiously loud and the lights dim besides occasional strobe. Mason seemed to have gotten into a conversation already, with a shorter guy who she had never seen before. Dipper spotted the bar and quickly strolled over to it, winding between sweaty, grinding, bodies on the dance floor.

She sat down quietly, calling out an order of fries to the bartender. Dipper could hear Mason's chastising voice in her ear for not having fun on her night out but she pushed it down. Perhaps he could fake above twenty-one, but with her soft face and doe eyes, she hardly looked eighteen. Dipper jumped, startled, when a body sat down next to her, a fry half way in her mouth. She choked it down and turned to face the stranger.

He was attractive, in most people's standards. His face was angular with a sharp nose and messy sandy hair, bright grey eyes lighting up the dimly lit room. She nearly choked on her french fry, patting her chest as if to clear it. The man tossed her a smile and ordered a drink, pausing for a second.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked innocently, pulling his wallet out of his slacks. Dipper swallowed and nodded, pushed her fries away from her a bit.

The bartender slid two Gin 'n Tonic's across the bar, the stranger reaching out to grab them both and then handing her her own. Dipper took a sip of it, the alcohol leaving a slight burn in the back of her throat.

"What's your story?" he asked, midst a long sip of his drink. His free hand tapped against his upper thigh, almost distractingly so.

"I was dragged to Gravity Falls by a letter and here by my crazy extrovert of a brother. I'm Dipper. You?"

"I can't say I'm quite as interesting. I'm here for the summer- I do photography and things like that. I'm Jack," he replied with a grin, holding out a hand that she shook.

"Well, nice to meet you Jack. And thanks for the drink."

After a while, she felt as if the tab was piling up for Jack. She was going on her fourth Gin, her face flushed and her mind dizzy. They were laughing over a stupid story about high school, her worries completely gone from her mind. He was wheezing, still, but he held out a hand and stood up.

"Dance with me Ms. Pines?" he asked courteously. Dipper giggled and took the hand, stumbling off the bar stool onto her feet. He lead her to the dance floor while she tripped over her feet and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Jack turned around and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to him.

She was smiling, her eyes half lidded and her hands moving above her head as she felt his hands trace up her body in small circles. She leaned in closer to him, sucking in her break and dancing more aggressively as his hand placement became more lewd. Her eyes were fluttering and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his and kissing his cheek messily. He laughed drunkenly, running his hand down her lower back to her ass with a squeeze. Her lips found his as she kissed him with no real aim, her small amount of lipstick smearing all over his face.

"I think," he breathed heavily in her ear, his hand pushed her arms off his, "we should go back to my place and finish this there."

Dipper bit her lip and nodded, allowing him to drag her out the door and down the street.

"Where's your hotel, mister Jack?" she slurred with another misplaced laugh. He mirrored the intoxicated laugh, and pulled her close to him again.

"Right here."

The walk up the three story flight of stairs to his room felt so much longer than usual, like the world was moving in ⅓ of the speed it did usually. When they reached it, he pushed her against the door and ravished her lips while he fumbled with the key. The door opened and she fell inside, aided by Jack's arm to keep her up. The bed wasn't far from the door, much to her luck, her body falling onto it being the next thing she remembered. Her dress was on the floor, his body on top of hers. She closed her eyes and relished in the moment. Until panic hit her.

She opened her eyes and gasped loudly as she felt him press into her, her hands bunching up and sheets and her back arching. Bill flooded her mind with an unpleasant picture which threatened tears, mixed with the sharp pain of her innocence being lost. He was going to kill her when she got home, if not in her sleep. Or not her, even, he would take his wrath out on Mason. Against her will, she submitted to an outpour of tears, her body shaking rapidly and the high of alcohol gone. Jack pulled away from her and gathering her weeping body in his arms. He whispered soothingly into her ear, sitting her up and running fingers through her hair. She rubbed her eyes, whimpering softly now.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried, shaking rapidly and grasping the sheets. "I'm the worst, I'm sorry."

"No, no," he whispered in her ear, "it's not your fault. You're okay."

She hiccuped and wiped her nose, cuddling closer to him in hopes of clearing her mind further. He rubbed her back slowly, hoping to calm her further. Eventually, her crying was reduced to a bit of a hand tremor, her body fast asleep against his. He slid down further into the covers, bringing her with him. Soon enough, he was asleep was well. The two laid, Dipper's cheeks chapped from crying and rubbing.

When she woke up the next morning, there was a small shock of panic at the unfamiliar room. It subsided, Dipper crawling from her spot to gather her clothes. She dressed quickly and quietly to not wake him and walked to the desk in the corner, scribbling a sorry note with her number in parenthesis below it. Hungover and sore, she managed to crawl downstairs and find the car still parked in the parking lot. Guessing Mason got a ride home from the boy at the bar, she fished the extra keys from her purse and got in,

She hoped Stan wasn't worried, or had put out a missing report for the both of them. The other car was gone, and a sign hung on the door in bold letters to announce that they were closed. Shrugging off the odd feeling due to Stan's absence and the vacant mystery shack, she walked in and stopped dead in her tracks, her heart in her throat.

Bill sat in the recliner, a sinister look on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update and short chapter!
> 
> ive been hella busy lately with school, and also focusing on my career in art. im going on vacation from the 21st to the 29th of december, so dont expect updates until mid-to-late january unfortunately :'( i hope u enjoyed!


	8. Kneel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: nsfw material ahead!

Dipper’s muscles felt taut, as if someone had injected her veins full of ice water. Her hair stood on in, goosepimples littering her skin, the ominous sight leaving her breathless. She slowly closed the door behind her, wincing as it creaked. Bill’s eyes were unwavering as she turned back around to face him. Dipper opened her mouth to try and form a sentence, but was cut off promptly by him.

“I am curious,” he said, unusually calm as he stood up from his chair to approach her. As he drew closer, she stepped back until she was pressed against the wall. He stood in front of her, a nasty twinkle in his eyes and a hint of a toothy grin. His fingers feathers across her cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with accuracy. 

“Did you really think you can rendezvous without me knowing? Without punishment?” His hands travelled down her arms, massaging lighting. He stepped closer, prompting a wince as he leaned down and pressed his sharp nose against her temple, his cold breath on her ear. 

“I would love to bend you over my knee,” he hissed into her ear, “but I’ll save that for a later time, my sweet Pine Tree, my obedient slave.”

Her breath hitched as he spoke, the feeling of his breath causing a shiver to run down her spine. He turned and walked farther from her just as the colorful world around her faded into grayscale, air still and quiet. Dipper tried to move, crying out at the weight of a collar on her neck. She tried to tug on it, but found her wrists bound in leather chained to the ground.

“Let me go!” she cried out, tugging at the restraints, “please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“How do I know,” his voice began to crescendo from a growl to shout, “that you won’t disobey me again and meet with that mortal?” His voice was shaky with rage at her betrayal, closing the recently created space around them in a few steps. He grabbed her by the collar roughly, suspending her to her toes. Her face was a few inches from his, salty tears trailing down her cheeks.

“You belong to me,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “and that foolish boy took what was mine.” He dropped her, causing her to fall to her knees and be wracked with pleading sobs again. 

“He tainted you, took what was mine, and you let him!” Bill paced in front of her, hands folded behind his back. “What to do with you, Pine Tree? Should I replace memories of him with memories of pain?”

“Do whatever the hell you want with me. Beat me, scar me, I don’t care,” Dipper hiccuped, hair sticking to her face. Bill’s face brightened with an idea, stopping his pacing to look at her with an inhuman grin.

“Perhaps that’s it. You don’t need punishing at all. No, no. I need to pay a little visit to your pet, Jack!”

Dipper let out a painful cry of protest, “Don’t hurt him! He had nothing to do with this! He had no clue, please, God, please don’t hurt him!” 

She threw herself at his feet, laying her head on his shiny black oxford shoes. He curved his lip in disgust at her pathetic display, stepped back and circling her body like a vulture. His foot kicked her back.

“Get up,” he snarled, “on your knees. This isn’t proper conduct in front of your master.” 

Dipper sat on her knees, shutting her eyes and trying to breathe calmly. She stiffens and sucks in as his long fingers move through her hair in a faux comforting way.

“If not your little lover, what do you have to offer me?” he cooed patronizingly, petting her as if she was a beloved pet.

“Anything you desire,” she hesitated, trying to keep it together, “my master. Myself in exchange for Jack.”

She could feel him smiling, gazing upon her. His hands travelled down to her jaw, lifting her to her feet with a gentle tug. Her eyes fluttered open just as his mouth descended on hers, pushing her back onto the dinette. She fell onto her elbows, the feeling of leather gone from her wrists, allowing her to gently touch his chest. The taste of his mouth, the taste of wine, made her want to gag and push him away. As long as he was distracted, Jack was safe. 

His hands caressed her neck underneath the weight of the collar, moving down to her collarbone and eventually to touching her breasts. She mewled into his mouth as he pinched her nipple, giving him motivation to carry on. His sharp teeth penetrated her bottom lip as he kissed her roughly, his tongue snaking into her mouth to deepen the kiss. She obliged, allowing him to move her body like a doll, stroking her in places that had her body on fire. Dipper rolled her hips against his, making him lose his breath in return. 

“You’re too much, doll,” he breathed onto her lips, moving his hands slowly up and down her waist. Bill kissed her cheek, dragging his clenched teeth across her cheek and to her ear where he lightly nipped. He buried his face in her neck, hands moving underneath her dress to stroke her through her panties.

“Oh,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. She could feel herself falling into a daze, the feeling of drowning washing over her again. She gasped and pressed herself closer to him, screwing her eyes shut as he bit and bruised her neck. His hands, his mouth, were so possessing. Fighting it felt impossible, but she had to, she couldn’t let herself fall into his trap again. 

Bill suddenly pulled away from her, grabbed her collar and pulling her to her feet. Dipper’s legs felt like jelly, but somehow, she stood. 

“Knees. Now,” he ordered, placing hands on each shoulder and shoving her down. She landed on her knees painfully, biting her lip to conceal a whimper. He undid his belt, her eyes watching as those long slender fingers worked to free himself from confines. When he finally broke free, she whimpered at the sight of his cock in front of her. She crawled on her knees a short distance before she took him in her hands, experimentally wrapped her hands around his shaft. Her hands were shaking as she leaned and ran her tongue down his length. This was new to her, the inexperience painfully present. She drag her tongue up him again, ending at the tip where she hesitantly swirled her tongue around him. Her eyes fluttered and looked up at him as she licked him down again, his cock glistening from her saliva. 

“Take it,” he ordered again. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the tip, pressing her lips against him and gradually taking him into her mouth. Her lips were tight against his shaft, her tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft. She slowly took him to the hilt, surprising herself with the lack of her gag reflexes. Dipper began to bob up and down, focusing on small details rather than the immoral act which she was committing. His hand greedily grabbed a fist ful of her hair, letting him control her movements to be more animalistic. Bill’s breathing was getting shallower, turning into groans as he gripped her hair. Hoping to finish him off sooner, she moved closer and gripped his shaft, rubbing him as she sucked him off. Her tongue moved over his ridges, combined with the painful tautness of her lips. He gasped loudly and held the back of her head as he buried his cock in her throat. Dipper gagged, her eyes wide with fear of asphyxiation. He came in her throat, releasing her and letting her stumble back.

She swallowed, unsure what else to do, and sat up, fixing her dress sleeve. He was leaning against the table, breathing heavily and struggling to zip himself up again. She wiped her mouth and stood shakily, drawing his attention. His eyes were wide, a sloppy smile on his face as he approached her, a completely different man than he was a few moments previous. He crossed the short space between them and cradled her jaw with his hand, pressing a kiss on her crown. Dipper immediately froze, confused by his intimate action. He tilted her head back to look at him, a forged grin replacing that of the one he previously displayed. 

“Did that satisfy?” Dipper managed to force out, finding trouble in addressing him with respect. 

“Certainly, but does it make up for your sins? I don’t think so,” he tenderly stroked her hair with one hand. She tried to push him back but he grabbed her wrists, keeping her taut against him.

“What the fuck? What else do you want from me?” she cried out, thrashing her wrists to try and detangle herself.   
“I’m not going to hurt whoever that man was-” Dipper audibly sighed in relief- “no, I want something much more valuable to me. The interdimensional rift.”

She gaped and tried to writhe out of his grasp again, shaking her head wildly.

“You’re crazy, Bill! I’m not assisting you in ending the world!” she sputtered. Grunkle Ford had shown her rift, warning her of the inevitable demise that would come upon the world if it managed to get into Bill’s grasp. If she brought him that, everyone would be endangered.

“Then you would rather me bring your ‘lover’ to his death? I’ll say, I’ve been thinking of some very inventive ways to do so. Perhaps cutting him from the inside out?” he taunted her. Her face contorted into a disgusted, enraged expression at the suggestion. 

“Isn’t there anything else you’d desire? The journals? Something?” she inquired, desperately trying to wriggle out of the situation. Either way, she’d be damned. 

“The journals are old news, Pine Tree. Besides, the idea of torturing the man to death is starting to grow on me. That old man Ford would get a taste too. If you don’t give me the rift, I’ll just take it by force,” he shrugged, acting as if he had not just discussed murdering. 

“Fuck you,” she slammed her hands against his chest, trying to relieve her wrists.

“Which one is it, Pine Tree?” 

Dipper hesitated before her answer; both options would be something she regretted. She couldn’t bear the guilt if she let him kill Jack and Ford, but was the latter any better? She could at least protect her friends and family to the last moment if she helped him bring on the apocalypse. Dipper took a shaky breath and met his eyes, squeezing her fists until her nails cut into her palm.

“I’ll give you the rift, but only if you promise not to harm any of my friends.”

“Good choice, Pine Tree. Let's shake on it,” Bill smiled and pat her cheek affectionately, kissing her quickly afterwards.

He released her wrists and stepped back a few, giving her time to rub her sore, red wrists. He extended a hand towards her, blue flames igniting from his long, bony fingers. Dipper swallowed and gingerly took his hand. 

“It’s a deal, Cipher.”

 

The grayscale world around her collapsed with only a whisper of laugh resonating in her ear. She stood once more in the living room, a disgruntled Stan rubbing his eyes in the doorway. Dipper had never felt so glad to see her Grunkle. She ran towards him and hugged him tightly, keeping her sobs in as she felt home once more. He stood startled, and then hugged her back for a moment before laughing lightly.

“Yeesh kid, don’t wear me out.” Dipper flushed and stepped back from him, awkwardly pulling at the ends of her dress.

“How’s about you go get changed and then come back down and we can go Greasy’s?”

She exhaled and beamed again, nodding enthusiastically.

“Trust me, Grunkle Stan, there’s nothing more I’d rather do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been like 12000 years! i'm back, and gave u some nsfw material to make up for lost time. not what you want, but we're getting there. ;')
> 
> i only plan on making this at maximum 20 chapters because i really don't want to draw it out. i dont think im going to do any sort of sequel to it. also sorry for grunkle ford for just appearing. all the events after "not what he seems" in my canon happens when they're aged up. so, weirdmaggedon will obviously happen in this fic and thats where i want it to start to get interesting.
> 
> i want to try and post as regularly as possible, but i have problems focusing so it gets a bit hard between school work and this and art :'[ i hope you enjoyed tho!

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully i'll keep up with this, whoo!
> 
> i plan to make this darker and darker, because i really fucking love dark! Bill. it doesn't get enough light, but like, he's literally bringing on the apocalypse? and who doesn't love a little bit of dominant masochistic bill ;)
> 
> it's going to be a little weird with the POV. it's not Dipper's, but it kind of revolves around hers? i dont know how to explain that lmao?
> 
> and lastly but not least, i'm going to go ahead and start the search for a beta reader, because i really want to keep up with this and someone nagging at me to do it might help.


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